Before it became overbuilt, there were still orchards and quaint Belle
epoque houses, we could walk or bike to school and back, we could go
row, sail, or pedal on the 'lake' (a large pond), and dirty little
brooks and out-of-the-way unbuilt lots abounded. The main street was
named after General de Gaulle and our school prizes were awarded in
the theatre inside the municipal casino on the lake front. We would
have glorious battles with the kids from the other side of a stinking
stew of a rivulet, lobbing, shooting, and blowing missiles of all
sizes and descriptions. We would raid the neighbor's cherry trees. We
would buy bubble gum with skin decals, whistles, and comic books at
the news agent down the street. We would skulk amid the poplars, climb
onto the garage roofs, enter and exit the apartment buildings where we
lived through low windows and basement doors, or skate and bike along
the driveways and in the neighboring streets. Sometimes we would
simply lurk in the entryways, gibbering away in frenzies of verbal
fantasy, racing toy cars across the polished marble floor, stopping to
work the intercoms and open the door to smaller children or passing
pets who knew whether to wait for an elevator ride or ascend the
stairs.
Phil
On 14:07, ll.clark@xxxxxxxxxxx wrote:
>>I grew up in Enghien [snip]
>
>You lucky man, growing up in such beauty and peace.
>>I'm already like a mummified kumqat.
>
>A good soaking and you'll be as good as new.
===
(The fledgling Zuikomaniac formerly known as Humbert Humbert)
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